115. Consecrating The Chase. Coisrigeadh Na Seilg

COISRIGEADH NA SEILG [115]

CONSECRATING THE CHASE

p. 314

p. 315

AN ainm na Trianailt, mar aon,
Ann am briathar, an gniomh ’s an smaon,
Ta mi ’g ionn mo lamha fein,
Ann an sionn ’s an sian nan speur.

A dubhradh nach till mi ri m’ bheo
Gun iasgach, gun ianach ni ’s mo,
Gun seing, gun sithinn nuas a beinn,
Gun sul, gun saill, a muigh a coill.

O Mhoire mhaoth-gheal, chaomh-gheal, ghradh-gheal,
Seachainn orm s’ am bradan tarra-gheal marbh air sala,
Lach le h-alach nam b’e b’aill leat,
Nead ri beul an uisge far nach traigh e.

An liath-chearc air bharr nan stuc,
Is coileach-dubh an tuchain truim,
An deigh laighe luth na greine,
Seachainn, o seachainn orm fein an eisdeachd.

O Mhoire, mhathair chubhr mo Righ,
Crun-sa mi le crun do shith,
Cuir do bhrat rioghach oir dha m’ dhion,
Is comhnuich mi le comhnadh Chriosd,
Comhnuich mi le comhnadh Chriosd.

IN name of the Holy Three-fold as one,
In word, in deed, and in thought,
I am bathing mine own hands,
In the light and in the elements of the sky.

Vowing that I shall never return in my life,
Without fishing, without fowling either,
Without game, without venison down from the hill,
Without fat, without blubber from out the copse.

O Mary tender-fair, gentle-fair, loving-fair,
Avoid thou to me the silvery salmon dead on the salt sea,
A duck with her brood an it please thee to show me,
A nest by the edge of the water where it does not dry.

The grey-hen on the crown of the knoll,
The black-cock of the hoarse croon,
After the strength of the sun has gone down,
Avoid, oh, avoid thou to me the hearing of them.

O Mary, fragrant mother of my King,
Crown thou me with the crown of thy peace,
Place thine own regal robe of gold to protect me,
And save me with the saving of Christ,
Save me with the saving of Christ.